


Tumblr Bits

by gluupor



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Avengers AU, Deadwood AU, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Gen, Hogwarts AU, Ladyhawke AU, M/M, Mr and Mrs Smith AU, One Shot Collection, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Post-Canon, Prince and the Pauper AU, Sorry AFTGFL, Swan Princess AU, Tumblr Prompt, carry on au, mermaid au, spy AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-02-29 14:52:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 19,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18780499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gluupor/pseuds/gluupor
Summary: A collection of my one-shots that have previously been posted on Tumblr.Chapters 1-3: Snippets from myAvengers AU.Chapter 4: Andrew's been keeping a secret from Neil (post-canon)Chapter 5-6: Hogwarts AUChapter 7: Swan Princess AUChapter 8: Neil Josten: Accountant Spy (with bonus fake marriage!)Chapter 9: Mr. and Mrs. Smith AUChapter 10: Prince and Pauper AUChapter 11: Mermaid AUChapter 12: Deadwood AUChapter 13: Carry On AUChapter 14-15: Ladyhawke AU





	1. Chapter 1

Once Dan got everything as settled as possible she retreated to the conference room and placed a video call to Wymack.

“Wilds?” he asked, picking up the call, his one eye worried. “I’ve gotten a few weird report from Avengers Tower today. What’s going on over there?”

“Situation: Normal, sir,” she replied.

Wymack winced. “That bad?”

“Everyone was exposed to an unidentified gas during the mission this morning.”

“But the debrief stated that there were no adverse effects.”

“That’s just it, sir,” she said. “It was a while before the... symptoms manifested.”

“Symptoms?” he asked warily.

She expelled a sigh. “Animals, sir,” she said. “All the Avengers think that they’re animals.”

“All of them?” he asked.

“Not Minyard - Aaron, that is. He wasn’t deployed, so he wasn’t exposed. He’s working with Katelyn and Abby to identify the gas and make an antidote.”

“But Andrew’s affected?”

“I’m not sure,” she said slowly. “He’s curled up in a sunbeam and he’s hissing at everyone who gets close, so he could think he’s a cat, or...”

“Or it’s Tuesday,” said Wymack in resignation. Then he perked up. “Maybe the serum renders him immune? Is Josten affected?”

“He’s staked out a corner of the common room and he’s recklessly attacking anyone who comes too close,” she said. “I think he’s a honey badger.”

“Fitting,” muttered Wymack. “How’s Kevin?”

“He’s a goat, I think,” said Dan. “He’s been headbutting everything that shows his reflection - the poor TV - climbing all the furniture, and chewing on the walls. I have Nicky watching him to make sure he doesn’t eat anything he shouldn’t.”

“Was Allison affected? Wasn’t she wearing her armour?”

“Yeah, but she flicked up the mask to make snide comments to Kevin, so she was exposed,” explained Dan. 

“And she now thinks she is...”

“A magpie, I’d guess,” said Dan. “She collected every shiny object in the suite, including the refrigerator. Also, the looks she’s giving Renee are worrying.”

“And Renee is...”

“A spider,” sighed Dan. “She’s gathered a bunch of fabric and is making a web on the ceiling.”

“Christ,” muttered Wymack, dragging his hand down his face. He momentarily dislodged his eye-patch. “What about Matt?”

There was a thump from under the conference table and then suddenly Matt appeared.

“Matt?” he asked. “Matt is _my_ name! I’m Matt!” He looked around. “Dan!” he cried in ecstasy. “It’s Dan! You’re my favourite Dan, my very, very favourite. Let’s play. You can throw something and I’ll get it and bring it back and then _not give it to you even though I want you to throw it again_. Hahaha, it will be the best trick!”

“Matt appears to be a dog,” said Dan dryly.

“I can see that,” replied Wymack. “I’m surprised he’s not a falcon.”

“Wymack!” cried Matt. “It’s Wymack! You’re my favourite!” He tried to approach the screen. “I don’t understand. I can hear you, but you’re not here. Where are you? Dan? Dan? Dan? Where’s Wymack? I’m confused. Dan?”

“Well it looks like you have everything under control there,” said Wymack, ending the video call.

“Don’t you dare-” Dan managed before the screen went black.

“Dan? Dan? Dan? Dan? Dan? Dan? Dan?”

“What, Matt?”

“I love you. You’re my favourite. Can we play? What’s in your hand? Is it food? I’m going to touch it with my nose.”

“No,” said Dan sharply, holding the remote away from Matt. “It’s not for you.”

“No?” asked Matt, visibly wilting at Dan’s tone.

Dan sighed. She could barely handle his puppy dog eyes when he _wasn’t_  sporting a dog’s consciousness. “Good dog.”

“I am! I am a good dog! I’m the best. I’m super totes great best.”

“Yes,” agreed Dan. “Let’s go get a snack.”

“Food! I love food. Food is my very, very favourite!”

Dan sighed again and headed towards the common room kitchen. Somehow she’d imagined her job would be more dignified when she’d become Deputy Director of SHIELD. She definitely did not get paid enough for all the Avenger wrangling that she had to do.


	2. Chapter 2

“What’s going on this time?” asked Allison tiredly, slumping into the conference room.

“When’s the last time you slept?” asked Renee in concern.

“I don’t know… three? two? definitely three days ago,” said Allison. “I’m on the verge of a breakthrough.”

“I’m putting you straight to bed after this meeting,” said Renee.

“Are you?” asked Allison, trying for a leer, but failing miserably.

“I hope it’s something normal,” said Kevin. “All our enemies lately seem to be getting their attack plans directly from cartoons.”

“Right?” said Matt. “Like those carnivorous plants that invaded Central Park?”

“Or that ‘death beam’ which didn’t do anything but cause retinal damage,” added Allison. 

“Or those giant pieces of candy that took over Coney Island,” said Renee.

“Or when that guy tried to weaponize the weather and Andrew just ended up with a rain cloud following him around for a week?” said Neil.

“Seriously, if this is stupid, I’m leaving,” threatened Aaron.

Dan pushed open the door and came in, wearing a serious expression. “Okay, guys,” she said. “We’ve received intelligence that AIM is planning on stealing the moon.”

There was a brief period of silence. “Welp,” said Aaron, standing. “I’m out.”


	3. Chapter 3

They’d neutralized the threat and were in the process of clearing the building when Neil’s forcibly calm voice came over comms.

“I’ve found something,” he said. “I could use some backup.”

The rest of them reached him at almost the exact same time, bursting into the room brandishing their weapons.

Neil was staring blankly down into a basket on a table.

“What is it?” asked Renee.

“It appears to be a tiny human,” said Neil.

Allison flipped the mask of her Iron Man suit open. “You mean a baby?”

Neil shrugged and stepped back, letting the rest of them see that, yes, there was a baby swaddled in blankets in the basket.

“Someone needs to take care of it,” said Neil.

“I really hope you don’t mean that euphemistically,” said Matt.

Kevin grimaced. “We’ll have to take it to the proper authorities. Someone will have to bring it with us.” He looked towards Allison.

“What?” she said. “You think I know anything about babies? Because I’m a woman?”

“She’s right,” said Renee. “The most maternal one of us should carry it.”

Everyone turned to look at Matt.

“I’ve never held a baby!” protested Matt. “Does anyone know the proper way to hold one?”

“Pretend it’s a bomb?” suggested Kevin.

“Okay,” said Matt under his breath, and gingerly picked up the infant. It started screaming instantly.

“Make it stop!” said Neil, covering his ears. 

It did not stop. Matt got the baby onto the quinjet and was trying to calm it down by bouncing it. That only made it shriek louder.

“Stop it,” Andrew said firmly to the baby, pointing one of his fingers at it.

“Guh?” said the baby, its eyes growing wide. Then it giggled and tried to grab Andrew’s metal finger.

“Oh, thank God, you’re a baby whisperer,” said Matt, pushing the baby into Andrew’s hands. The baby gazed at Andrew's face in fascination.

“Sleep,” Andrew commanded. The baby stared up at him for a couple beats, before slumping over, fast asleep.

“What is going on?” Dan asked over their comms.

“I’m pretty sure we’ve just begun a wacky sitcom where the Avengers adopt a baby,” said Matt.


	4. Secrets and Lies

It rankled him, the secret he was keeping from Neil. Five years they’d been together, their nothing having changed into something real and solid and unbreakable, but still Andrew kept silent. He justified it to himself by repeating that Neil would never understand. Not _this_.

He’d rarely been able to indulge his desires while still in college, only being able to slip away unnoticed to seedy sports bars with bright televisions and cheap beer infrequently. Warring feelings of shame and excitement had always plagued him when he indulged himself. When Neil had asked where he’d been, his lies tasted sour on his tongue. Sometimes he got the urge to come clean, but he knew that Neil would never forgive this indiscretion and he couldn’t risk losing Neil.

It was easier after he’d graduated. Alone in the big city, he could do as he wished in the privacy of his own apartment. Whenever Neil visited Andrew was aware of the secret between them, but Neil’s happy smiles and easy pliancy (for him, only ever for him) chased away any thought of telling him. He imagined how hurt and outraged he would be if he ever found that Neil was keeping something of this magnitude from him, but he still couldn’t make himself say anything.

When they eventually ended up on the same team, and living together, Andrew knew it was only a matter of time before the truth came out. He’d gotten too used to his freedom to indulge whenever he wished; sooner or later, Neil would discover what he was hiding.

Still, he attempted to keep his secret. He tried not to bring it into their home, the place where Neil felt safe and secure. But secrets had a way of getting discovered, and all it took was Andrew taking a stupid risk and Neil coming home unexpectedly early.

Andrew froze on the couch when Neil came in, caught in the act. Neil looked puzzled, still not understanding what he was seeing. He looked back and forth between Andrew and the television several times.

“What— Is that— Andrew, are you… watching _baseball_?” he stuttered.

Andrew sighed, knowing there was no reason to deny the truth any longer. He met Neil’s eyes unflinchingly. “I like baseball,” he admitted. “I am a baseball fan.”

Neil clutched his stomach as if he’d been sucker punched and stepped backward, flailing as he ran into the wall. His face was pale, all the colour having drained out of it. “For how long?” he asked in a low voice.

Andrew closed his eyes. “Forever,” he said. “Since I was a child.”

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

“I didn’t think you’d understand.”

“Understand? Andrew, I— No, I don’t understand! You keep saying you hate sports.”

“I said I hate exy.”

Neil moaned, as if in pain. “You… you like _baseball_ more than _exy_?” he said, his voice turning shrill. “And you never thought to mention this to me?” He shook his head. “I can’t… I can’t believe you.” He turned to leave.

“Neil—” tried Andrew.

Neil waved a hand to silence him. “I need to be alone right now,” he said, and walked from the room.

Andrew hung his head. He’d known his preference for baseball would come back to bite him. If only Neil would listen. He could come to like baseball, too. Baseball was full of stats and Neil loved stats.

Neil returned suddenly, his face grey and drawn, illuminated only by the glow from the television. “Just tell me the truth so I know how dire the situation really is,” he said, grimacing and bracing himself for even more bad news. “Are you a Yankees fan?”


	5. Hogwarts AU

Neil felt completely out of place, standing with the gaggle of first years waiting to get sorted into their houses. At least none of the eleven-year-olds were actually taller than he was, although there were a couple girls who had obviously had early growth spurts who came close.

Unlike the excited first years, who were all whispering and looking around in awe and elbowing each other and pointing, he tried to project an air of calm indifference. At fifteen, he was too old for such displays, despite the fact that he’d never seen the Great Hall before and felt the urge to stare like a slack-jawed yokel at the long tables and enchanted ceiling.

Instead, he studied the sea of people. He kept his eyes away from the head table, not knowing which teachers were skilled legilimens; his occlumency had never been as good as his mother had wished.

The thought of his mother gave him a dull pang. She had never wanted him to come to Hogwarts, had gone to pains to prevent him from doing so, but in the end it was her fault he was here. Her untimely death last year meant that the charm she had cast on him that hid his existence and location from the magic that controlled the Hogwarts welcome letters had broken. With no other options, he hadn’t been able to resist the lure of a warm bed and provided meals. He hadn’t been able to deny his intense desire to learn magic properly.

He pushed away thoughts of his mother and focused on his surroundings. He could see that the main focus of most of the first year whispers and pointing was the tall, dark-haired boy sitting at the Slytherin table, prefect badge glinting in the candlelight. Caoimhin Day (or Kevin, as his adopted English family had insisted on) was well-known in the wizarding world. He was the Boy Who Lived, the one who had somehow survived a killing curse from the Dark Lord when he was only a year old. His mother had been struck down in front of him, but the only mark Kevin had received was a dark tattoo-like scar on his cheekbone.

Neil glanced briefly at Kevin’s left hand. It was mottled with black; spell damage from his highly publicized fight against the resurrected Dark Lord at the Ministry of Magic last June. There were other, less obvious, indications of the fight: Kevin was flanked by Renee Walker and Allison Reynolds, instead of his usual companions Riko Moriyama and Jean Moreau. The two of them had been among the students who hadn’t returned to Hogwarts this year, their parents throwing their support behind the Dark Lord. In fact, the entire Slytherin table seemed much less populated than it should have been.

Neil spotted other members of Kevin’s secret defense group that had infiltrated the ministry: Danielle Wilds and Matthew Boyd were over at the Gryffindor table, Aaron Minyard and Katelyn Patil were whispering together surrounded by Ravenclaws, Nicholas Hemmick and his cousin, Andrew Minyard (Aaron's twin) were sitting among the Hufflepuffs.

Andrew was staring at Neil, his expression hostile. He looked from Neil to Kevin and back again, apparently having seen Neil’s interest in Kevin’s injury. It was common knowledge that Andrew had pledged to protect Kevin against anyone who would harm him. Neil hardened his expression and tilted his chin in challenge. He hadn’t been doing anything wrong. He didn’t want anything to do with Kevin and there was no way they would be housemates, anyway.

Other than the sensationalist reporting of the events of last June, Neil remembered Andrew from the newspaper coverage of Kevin’s Sorting. Op-eds had been written about the Wizarding world’s saviour being sorted into Slytherin. Had the curse changed him, was the question. Why else would the stalwart son of heroic Gryffindor Kayleigh Day be placed with the nasty, dark Slytherins? Andrew had been brought up as evidence that the Sorting Hat was going senile. Surely such a joyless, destructive child belonged among the Slytherins and not with the cheerful, hard working Hufflepuffs.

The Moriyamas, who had raised Kevin, had enough money and clout that the uproar fizzled almost as soon as it had begun.

Neil recalled how his mother had reacted to finding him reading the _Daily Prophet_. How angry she had been to know that he was still looking for news from the Wizarding world. He’d been bruised for a week following that altercation. Magic, she’d told him, was poison. All it did was draw attention to him, make him special, when they had to be as muggle and unexceptional as possible. The only spells she’d taught him were ones that could keep them hidden. He’d been working hard all summer with his mother’s wand (his own had underage restrictions on it) and a battered old copy of the _Standard Book of Spells_ in order to catch up to his peers. Despite his work, he knew he was going to be behind in everything except for Defense Against the Dark Arts, which was both incredibly important in these dark times and taught by an incompetent fool.

“Before we get to the sorting,” said the Deputy Headmistress, “we have a special case this year. A new student, previously homeschooled, is joining our class of fifth years. Neil Josten, please step forward.”

Neil immediately felt like bolting when it seemed like thousands of curious eyes turned on him. He tamped down the urge to flatten his hair, or to run to the nearest mirror to make sure his colour-changing charm on his hair and eyes was still in effect. Instead, he walked forward to where the Sorting Hat was sitting on what appeared to be the world’s most uncomfortable stool.

He braced himself. This had been the reason his mother had insisted that he could never come to Hogwarts. Sure, if he stayed in one place it was guaranteed that his father would find him, but the real danger came from the Hat that could see everything inside his head. He made sure his occlumency shields were as strong as he could make them before he sat and had the Hat placed on his head.

 _Hmmm_ , said the Hat in his ear as soon as it was placed on his head. _Neil Josten, eh?_ It sounded dubious and teasing, as if it knew who he was and was making fun of him for trying to hide it. _Sure, I can call you that._

“That is my name.”

_Currently, that is true. What a marvellous piece of magic this identity-changing spell is. It was your mother who made it, I suppose. She was always a remarkably clever witch. It was very hard to sort her. She had the cunning of a Slytherin, the wit and creativity of a Ravenclaw, and the unspeakable courage of a Gryffindor._

Neil swallowed and didn’t answer.

 _But that is neither here nor there_ , continued the Hat. _Where should I put_ you _?_

“Not Slytherin,” whispered Neil. Anywhere far away from the only person who could recognize him. He was planning on staying as far away from Kevin as he could. “Ravenclaw, maybe.” He could pretend to be a shy bookworm. He wouldn’t need friends and he could focus on his lessons and ignore everything that was happening around him.

The Hat seemed to snort in disdain. _You are capable of being intelligent and creative, but you are not a Ravenclaw_ , it admonished. _You have courage, a martyr streak, although it is hidden beneath your mother’s lessons, so not a Gryffindor. Loyalty, though… you have a bone-deep vein of loyalty that can be unearthed._

“Hufflepuff, then.” He didn’t particularly want to be in the same house as Andrew Minyard, but it was the better of his two remaining options. “Not Slytherin.”

 _But you would do so well in Slytherin_ , said the Hat. _You are ambitious and cunning and clever and manipulative. In Slytherin, you would shine_.

“ _Not_ Slytherin.” Neil was desperate. “I can’t be near _him_.”

 _Ah_ , came the Hat’s voice, sounding very sage, _but before the end_ he _is going to need_ you. “SLYTHERIN!” it shouted out to the entire Hall.

Neil closed his eyes in defeat, before removing the Hat and handing it back. He briefly considered setting the damn thing on fire.

He headed to the Slytherin table, trying to slot himself unobtrusively at the end but Allison Reynolds caught his arm and forced him to come sit with the other fifth years. Kevin barely looked at him, except to give him a cool look of indifference.

The hair on the back of Neil’s neck rose, and he turned in his seat to find Andrew Minyard’s malevolent glare still focused on him. Without words or gestures he was able to get his point across. He was watching Neil and he wasn’t going to let him near Kevin, sharing a room or not.

Neil buried his head in his arms. This was already getting too complicated. All he’d wanted was a quiet year at Hogwarts, keeping to himself, learning magic, and maybe playing Quidditch.

He had a sinking feeling that he wasn’t going to be that lucky.


	6. Hogwarts AU part 2

Neil tripped through the hallways, tightly clutching the Sorting Hat. The stupid thing had gotten him into this mess by putting him directly in Kevin’s path and it was going to get him out of it. He needed to get it to Matt or Dan. To a true Gryffindor who could pull Gryffindor’s sword out of it so Kevin could destroy the final two horcruxes. Not that they knew what the final horcrux was, although Neil had a suspicion that made him feel vaguely ill. That _couldn’t_ have been what Lola meant when she’d said it was in ‘the boy’ could it?

She’d been gloating, calling him stupid and weak, crowing how they’d never defeat the Dark Lord because his life was tied to the boy’s, and they could never kill the boy. Admittedly, his mind had been a little hazy at the time from all the crucios. She’d been carving into his arms with a cursed blade and not minding her words at all, believing that he’d be dead before long.

Besides, what did she know? She and Neil’s father had been Death Eaters, but they weren’t important enough to be in the Dark Lord’s confidence. They were only his American attack dogs.

The battle was raging around him. He’d only been at Hogwarts for two years before spending the past year with Kevin and Andrew hunting horcruxes, but it had become his home in that time. The sight of intruders in the castle filled him with rage that helped power his spells.

No unforgivables, of course. Kevin was adamant about that. But as much as he hated his father he’d learned from him that a lot of damage could be done with a well-placed slicing hex.

He and Kevin had been separated before Neil had reached the headmaster’s office. He hoped Kevin was okay, that he’d found Andrew and had someone watching his back. With luck, he’d made it to their agreed upon rendezvous point.

“ _Crucio_!” The spell hit him as he rounded a corner, catching him off guard.

He fell back, screaming, as his bones seemed to catch fire. As many times as he’d been hit with this spell—and it was a lot; Lola had been a big fan—he never built up any tolerance to it. He’d heard that people could lose their minds if kept under the spell for too long; he wondered if they stopped feeling pain at the end.

The pain abruptly ceased. Neil panted, willing himself to get up and fight back. He’d dropped his wand; he needed to find it. He cracked open his eyes and found himself looking up into gleeful face of Riko Moriyama, his expression full of madness and triumph.

“Where are you going with that ratty old hat, Nathaniel?” sneered Riko. “On the way back to your _hero_?” The hatred that coloured the word hero was intense. Riko had always been violently jealous of Kevin’s status as the Chosen One. “He’s nothing, nobody!”

“At least he’s not the pathetic servant of a dark wizard,” said Neil.

“You know nothing,” spat Riko before hitting him with another crucio. This one seemed to last longer; he wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

When it ended, he was coughing up blood, which couldn’t be a good sign.

Riko came closer, his eyes alight with malicious joy. He kicked the Sorting Hat away from Neil’s questing fingers.

“Are you scared to die, Nathaniel?” cooed Riko. “Are you worried no one will care?”

Neil ignored him, looking past him to where Jean was standing, cowering and looking nauseated. He was even more diminished than when they’d last seen each other: when Neil, Kevin, and Andrew had been briefly captured and brought to the Moreau family estate by the Butcher’s Men. They’d barely escaped with their lives.

“Take the Hat to Kevin,” Neil rasped, locking eyes with Jean. “You said you owed him.”

Jean’s face was pained as Riko turned to him, sneering. “You’re my dog, not Kevin’s,” he said. “Stay.”

Jean’s eyes flashed but Neil barely noticed, his attention stolen by yet another crucio. This was it, he realized. His end. He’d known he was living on borrowed time since he’d escaped Lola and his father; he’d never expected to live this long. His only regret was that he hadn’t be able to say goodbye.

 _Sorry, Andrew_.

The pain stopped unexpectedly. Neil gazed up at Riko blearily, not daring to hope—

“It’s not as fun when you don’t scream,” said Riko, offhand. “I guess you’re finished with our game.” He raised his wand again. “ _Avada_ —”

He was cut off by a sword stabbing through his chest. He looked down, confused as the bloody metal pushed through his sternum. A scream tore through his throat as his skin blackened, looking burned. Neil watched in fascinated amazement as Riko disintegrated into ash, nothing left behind except for an anguished cry from outside the castle. The eerie sound seemed to hang in the air.

Jean stared in horror, his mouth hanging open as he looked at his shaking hands as if he couldn’t believe they belonged to him. His eyes widened as he caught the script on the hilt of the sword: Godric Gryffindor.

Neil scrambled for his wand and tried to stand, before his shaking legs buckled beneath him. “Seems you were sorted wrong,” he rasped, his voice coming out sounding like gravel after screaming for so long. Only a true Gryffindor could pull that sword from the Hat.

Jean’s head snapped up. “I asked—” he said, his own voice hoarse. He licked his lips and tried again, nodding to the Sorting Hat that was crumpled in a heap by his feet. “It said I would make a fine Gryffindor. I told it I would be disowned if I was anything but a Slytherin. We argued.”

“At least it let you have what you wanted,” complained Neil, scooping the offending object off the floor. “I wanted to be a nobody Ravenclaw and look where I ended up.” The Hat seemed to smirk at him, _Where you belong_.

He tried to stand again; this time Jean shook himself out of his stupor to help him. “We have to get the sword to Kevin. He needs to destroy the last horcrux.” He shook his head at the pile of ash that had once been Riko. “I can’t believe Riko was a horcrux. It explains his personality, but honestly, did Lola really think I would hesitate to kill him?”

Jean didn’t answer, still too much in shock by what he’d done.

“Snap out of it,” said Neil, poking his arm.

“He had—” Jean cleared his throat. “Riko had magical protections provided by the Dark Lord. I shouldn’t have been able to—” he broke off again and stared at the sword. “It should have bounced off the protections.”

“Basilisk venom courtesy of Kevin’s second year adventure,” said Neil sagely. He hadn’t been around for that, but he’d heard about it straight from the source.

“He was supposed to stay out of the battle,” said Jean, again looking at the pile of Riko ash. “But he claimed he was invincible and he really wanted to hurt you and Kevin.”

“Speaking of Kevin…” Neil staggered as every single one of his muscles protested his movement, aching like—well, aching like he’d been tortured. Jean was unsteady on his feet as well—due to shock, not injury—and the two of them supported each other as they lurched toward the Great Hall.

Neil couldn’t help but notice that the fighting had tapered off during his confrontation with Riko. The halls of Hogwarts were almost empty, free of anything except rubble. He hoped they weren’t too late, that this break in the fighting didn’t spell failure.

There was a hushed silence hanging over the Great Hall, pregnant with grief and shock. Neil’s entrance caused a reaction, little sounds of surprise coming from those closest to him and radiating outwards. He supposed he could understand: he was looking worse for wear, spattered in Riko’s blood, and leaning heavily on a known Death Eater who was carrying Gryffindor’s blood-soaked sword. It would have been stranger if people _weren’t_ staring at him.

Neil glanced around desperately, scanning the faces for the one he wanted to see. It was easy to find Kevin at the centre of the room. He was holding his jaw as if he’d been punched (which was strange; as a rule, Death Eaters didn’t use Muggle fighting techniques) and Neil relaxed when he caught sight of the expected blond head at his side.

The ripple caused by Neil and Jean reached him just as Neil caught sight of him. Andrew turned sharply, his face set and hard.

Neil was hit by a sinking feeling; he turned to survey the rest of the room. There were only a couple of people whose deaths could make Andrew look like that. But, no, Aaron was with Katelyn, helping the matron administer healing potions to the wounded, and Nicky was wrapped up in the arms of his Durmstrang boyfriend, Erik. Neil also caught sight of Renee, Dan, and Matt. Jeremy and Allison were also alive, although Allison was weeping bitterly over what appeared to be Seth’s body.

Neil turned back to Andrew, finding him within arm’s reach.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Why are you upset?”

“Idiot,” said Andrew harshly, fisting a hand in the front of Neil’s robes and dragging him into a kiss in front of everybody. It was a hard and desperate kiss, full of teeth, but Andrew’s hands were strangely gentle as they roamed Neil’s body, being careful of aggravating his injuries. Neil petted his shoulders carefully to reassure him.

“Where are you hurt?” asked Andrew, pulling back.

“I’m fine,” said Neil. Andrew’s eyes flashed, so he quickly corrected himself, “I took a couple crucios but the blood is Riko’s.”

Andrew flicked his eyes to Jean and the sword he was still gripping. “Found your spine, Moreau?” he asked blandly, before focusing on Neil again. “I thought you were dead.” His voice was flat and emotionless but he’d already showed his hand.

Neil took a step closer. “I didn’t think our first kiss would be with everyone looking on,” he said.

“Then you shouldn’t have disappeared during a battle.”

“Riko was the horcrux,” Neil whispered. “We can win. We can have a future.”

Andrew’s eyes were bright and shining and full of promise. “Then let’s get that sword to Kevin and finish this.”


	7. Swan Princess AU

Andrew pushed through the underbrush, intent on his goal. As long as he stayed busy, stayed focused on getting revenge, he didn’t have to think about— well, he didn’t have to think about anything.

He kept his eyes on his quarry. He hated the outdoors and had no use for wild animals, so he had no idea if all swans were as awful as the one he was following or if this particular one was just a demon bird. He was going to catch up to it and strangle the bendy-necked asshole.

There was also the possibility that this swan was the ‘great animal’ that he was looking for. The one who had—

No. He wasn’t going to think about that. He absolutely was not going to think about how Neil was dead and once Andrew found and killed the party responsible he would have to head back to his uncle’s kingdom and be alone. Forever.

They’d been betrothed since they were children. Andrew had resented the small prince from the neighbouring kingdom as soon as they’d met and had done his best to drive him away. He would never marry him, he’d vowed, rebelling against his uncle’s orders. He was going to make Prince Nathaniel suffer instead.

Neil hadn’t let him intimidate him. He’d clashed against him, quick and clever and stubborn. Still, Andrew had persisted in trying to run him off. It had taken years for him to realize how essential Neil had become to him, how lost he would be without Neil’s sharp tongue and bright eyes and hard-won smile. He’d maintained that he hated Neil, not want to give anyone insight into his vulnerabilities, but he’d known that Neil was his future and always had been.

That was until he’d disappeared unexpectedly from his uncle’s castle. Andrew had tracked him down only to find a massacre of Neil’s retinue and a dying man’s report that Neil had been ambushed and killed by a great animal.

Andrew had set off after it and attempted to silence his thoughts and ignore the pit of grief that threatened to consume him if he slowed down. He tried not to think about Neil. He was not succeeding.

The swan had attacked him not far from the ambush site, hissing and biting and generally being terrifying. It had taken off flying before he could regain his footing and kill it. Since then he’d been single-mindedly following it back to wherever it was from, vowing to turn it into his dinner.

There was a possibility that it was leading him into a trap, but he didn’t much care. His own health and safety were a much lower priority than getting revenge.

It was past dark by the time the swan landed. It had led him to a clearing: a wide, circular lake could be seen through the trees. Beside it stood a tower that had appeared from the mists as if by magic.

Andrew slowed and notched an arrow in his bow. It was very dark and still but he could see the bright white of the swan’s feathers as it swam in the pond. He waited for the moon to come out from behind a cloud so he would not miss his shot.

As soon as the moonlight hit the lake, the swan dipped below the placid surface of the water. What surfaced wasn’t a swan, but a man. A familiar man, who Andrew would know anywhere, even by the faint light of the moon.

“Neil,” he said, insensibly dropping his bow and splashing into the lake, unconscious of how he was ruining his leather armour. He didn’t care. All he cared about was getting his hands on his Neil. “Neil,” he said again when he got close enough to touch him, taking Neil’s face in his hands and staring into his beloved eyes.

Neil shrugged him off. “Why are you here?”

Andrew didn’t understand the question. Of course he would follow Neil anywhere. “I thought you were dead,” he said instead, his voice breaking on the last word. He reached for Neil again.

Neil stayed out of the range of his arms. “What does it matter to you? Apparently my only use is that I’m ‘passably pleasant to look at’.”

He was repeating Andrew’s words back to him, words that Andrew had spoken to his uncle, not wanting the man to guess at the depth of his feelings.

“Idiot,” growled Andrew. “What did you want me to say? To all those people who want an advantage over me? That I can’t breathe when you’re not near? That you are mine and I am yours and I refuse to live in a world without you? What do you think someone who wanted to hurt me would do? What would happen to you then?”

Neil looked mollified. “Oh.”

“Yes,” said Andrew acidly. “Oh.”

Neil stepped within arms reach and let Andrew pull him close. “It wouldn’t kill you to say it sometimes,” he said petulantly.

“You disappeared and I thought you were dead,” Andrew whispered. He paused, the implications of what he’d seen earlier coming to him now that he wasn’t as distracted by Neil’s miraculous resurrection. “You bit me,” he accused.

“Yes, well,” shrugged Neil. “I needed to get you here, didn’t I?” A bullfrog croaked. “Shut up, Jean,” hissed Neil.

Andrew raised an eyebrow.

“That’s Jean,” said Neil, gesturing carelessly. “He’s a frog.”

Andrew raised his other eyebrow.

“He’s actually a prince,” said Neil. “There are a few other enchanted people here.” At Andrew’s continued incredulous expression, he huffed, “Well, I’m a swan most of the time, remember?”

“About that…” said Andrew.

Neil sighed ruefully. “It’s a long story.”


	8. Neil Josten: Accountant Spy

Whenever anyone asked Neil what he did for a living, he responded by saying he was a spy. This always was met with impressed faces and probing questions about his job. Was it like being James Bond? everyone always wanted to know. Was he out there, taking names and kicking ass? Neil always tapped the side of his nose conspiratorially and said that he couldn’t talk about it, that it was classified.

He wasn’t lying. He _was_ a spy. What he didn’t mention was that he didn’t work for the CIA or the FBI or the NSA. No, he worked for the IRS. He was an accountant spy.

His job consisted of going undercover at suspect companies and looking for evidence that they were committing tax fraud or other white collar crime. He suspected that all the people who were so impressed with his profession would be less so if they knew the particulars.

Luckily, there weren’t all that many people who asked. He socialized mainly with his coworkers at the IRS (who, obviously, were aware of what he did for a living) or with his coworkers when he was undercover (and it’s not like he could tell _them_ that he was spying on them).

In general, he liked his work. It brought together his two biggest talents: math and lying about his identity. He knew that some of his coworkers, like Dan and Matt, had lofty goals and ideals about making the world a better place by punishing the rich, but Neil was in it for the money.

As good as he was (and he was very good) every so often he made mistakes. Like today.

“Come on, pick up,” he muttered into his phone. “Pick up, pick up, pick up.”

“Foxes’ Dry Cleaning,” answered Dan’s cheerful voice. “We clean up your messes.”

“Hey, babe,” said Neil.

“‘Babe’?” repeated Dan. “Our relationship seems to have gotten a lot more serious without my knowledge.”

“How are you? Still free tonight?”

“I’m pretty sure that your current identity doesn’t have a significant other,” sighed Dan. “What happened?”

“Well, you know how I wasn’t planning on being out at work?” asked Neil.

“Neil,” groaned Dan.

“I know, but I was caught off guard, Chad,” said Neil, testily. “So I need to know if you’re free to come to the office party tonight?”

“Everyone’s busy.”

“Mmm-hmmm,” said Neil. “I know that, but I would really appreciate—”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Everyone wants to meet my husband.”

“You’re usually better at obfuscating,” grumbled Dan. “Someone will be there by five.”

“Great,” said Neil in relief. “It means a lot to me. Love you.”

“I’m going to tell Andrew you said that.”

“Okay, bye.” Neil hung up and rubbed a hand through his hair. Goddamn Barbara. This was all her fault.

She was one of those well-meaning busybody types with her nose in everyone’s business, telling them how to live their lives. Neil did not feel guilty at all that he was probably going to be arresting her for tax evasion in the near future.

He’d been doing pretty well at brushing her off when she asked about his personal life, sharing only little bits about his fake background. He’d also been successful so far at shutting down her attempts to set him up. All it had taken was one momentary lapse when he hadn’t had his guard up.

“I invited someone to the office party tonight that I really think you should meet,” Barbara had said.

“Mmm,” said Neil, completely noncommittally, focused on his calculations. He was missing something, somewhere. It wasn’t adding up properly.

“I really think you’ll like her, she’s super great.”

“No.”

“Oh, come on. You need someone to take care of you.”

“I’m married,” Neil had muttered, his mouth saying the words without permission from his brain. “Uh,” he said, catching himself and looking up. “I mean…”

Her eyes had narrowed at his left ring finger which was completely bare. She raised one eyebrow skeptically. “Really? How come you never mentioned it before?”

“Look,” said Neil, checking around to make sure no one was close enough to eavesdrop. “I didn’t say anything because I wasn’t sure how people here would react to… him.”

“Oh!” said Barbara, suddenly flustered. “I didn’t know you were— not that there’s anything wrong with that,” she hastily tacked on.

“If you could keep it to yourself?” he asked. “I’m not ready to be, you know, _out_  here.”

“Of course,” she said, nodding a lot and watching him with newfound interest. “Of course I won’t tell anybody.”

Neil had not had high hopes and his lack of trust in her discretion had been proven correct less than an hour later when Evelyn, a very professional HR rep, had stiffly stood next to his desk.

“I am sorry,” she’d said, “Mr. Jacobs, that you have felt the need to hide your sexuality.”

“Oh, please don’t—” started Neil.

“This company is very accepting of a variety of different lifestyles and I want to ensure you that we will swiftly deal with any person that is making you feel uncomfortable.”

“Uh,” said Neil, stupidly.

“As such, we request that you invite your… _partner_ to the office party tonight. He will be welcomed with open arms.”

“I don’t—”

“Oh, Neil, you have to,” said Barbara, popping up from God-knew-where. “We feel simply horrible that you’ve felt the need to keep this from us!”

Neil opened his mouth and closed it, feeling like a fish. He turned back to Evelyn. “This whole conversation is making me feel uncomfortable,” he tried.

“We look forward to meeting your partner tonight,” Evelyn replied.

“Husband,” Neil said grumpily. He hated the term ‘partner’.

“I can’t wait!” said Barbara.

Which was when Neil had given up arguing and decided to call Dan for help. There was only one thing that could solve this problem: a fake husband.

He’d teamed up with several of his co-workers before, pretending to be married. It was easier to work with a supporting partner and having a spouse that came to visit him at work was a good cover. But he didn’t need a normal husband for this. He needed Chad.

It was originally Erik who had made up the persona. He’d been working with Dan at the time and she needed him to pretend to be her boyfriend at a party at the company she was investigating. She told him to be as distracting as possible but to remain above suspicion.

Erik had taken these directions and created Chad: a golden retriever of a human being. He was a personal trainer/masseur/underwear model, who had a smile like sunshine and absolutely nothing going on below the surface. He was so pretty and dumb that everyone instantly understood that he was arm candy. He’d smiled beguilingly and let Dan’s middle aged female coworkers pinch his biceps. He’d been so distracting that Dan had successfully planted several bugs in executives’ offices while everyone was looking at her perfect boyfriend. After that, Chad had been a tool that all of them used from time to time.

Nicky, Jeremy, and Matt were all very good at being Chad (Erik was still the master), Kevin and Neil were passable, and no one asked the twins to do it after Andrew had tried once and made everyone incredibly uncomfortable with his wide grin.

There was also a female version of Chad, called Candi (with an i) that Allison always had too much fun pretending to be, although she was better at being a bored, bitter trophy wife.

Neil knew that they were swamped right now; there was a reason that he didn’t already have a backup fake significant other. He felt bad for his slip up, but having a Chad at the party tonight would be useful. He’d found quite a few irregularities in his accounting and he wanted to bug his boss’ office to get an idea of how widespread and intentional the tax fraud was. He hoped that Matt was available to come, although Kevin would be fine, too. Those were the two he worked with most often.

He spent the rest of the afternoon half-focused on his work and half-worrying about the party that evening.

It wasn’t until Barbara was standing by his desk, rocking excitedly on the balls of her feet that Neil was made aware of the time.

“Jameson,” she said, addressing him by his undercover name. He was pretending to be a trust fund douchebag and he had a name to match. “Is he on his way?” Her excitement was palpable, although Neil had no idea why.

“I’m sure he is,” answered Neil. He actually had no clue who was coming or how to contact them, but he trusted Dan not to let him down.

“What’s he like?”

“Uh,” stuttered Neil, desperately trying to come up with the most generic description ever that didn’t include any hints to Chad’s physical appearance. “Nice.”

Barbara gave him an unimpressed look, but he was saved by his office phone ringing. He pointed at it and she sighed happily.

“Mr. Jacobs?” said the gruff voice of the building’s security guard. “I have a Chad Jacobs here to see you.”

“I’ll be right down,” said Neil, heading to the elevators. Barbara was still watching him with heart eyes as the elevator doors closed between them.

He spent the trip down wordlessly thanking Dan for sending someone to save him. Once he arrived, he smiled in relief at the familiar blond head. He always felt best with Andrew at his back, even though Andrew made a poor Chad. It wasn’t until he’d taken a couple steps out of the elevator that he realized his mistake.

Aaron looked like he was on the way to the executioner’s block as opposed to an office party where he’d have to pretend to be his real-life brother-in-law’s fake husband for the evening. Although, Neil was in agreement that there wasn’t a lot of difference between the two.

“Babe,” he made himself say, reaching out a hand. “Come upstairs.”

Aaron pushed past him into the elevator without acknowledging him.

“Ground rules,” he said as soon as they were alone. “I’ve decided that Chad is uncomfortable with all forms of PDA.”

“You have to hold my hand, at least. Also, remember that Chad is gay and shouldn’t be caught staring at women’s breasts,” Neil said snippily in return.

“Maybe Chad is bisexual and is considering leaving you.”

“You’re here to back me up, not to make this harder,” grumbled Neil. “Could you _try_ to pretend to like me?”

“It’s not like _you_ like _me._ ”

“You are not even in the top three people who I hate most in the world right now.”

“Really?” said Aaron with interest. “I thought I was usually number one. Who’s beating me?”

“Well, Dan, obviously, for sending you.” Aaron nodded in agreement. “Andrew, for not being available to come himself. And Kevin.”

“Kevin? Kevin didn’t do anything.”

“Everything is at least partially Kevin’s fault.”

“Fair,” Aaron paused. “What do they know about me?”

“That your name is Chad, that we are married, and that you’re nice.”

Aaron glared. “Fine,” he muttered, and took Neil’s hand. His palm with warm and clammy and Neil resisted the urge to snatch his hand away and wipe it on his pants.

“I’m going to murder Dan,” he muttered, as the elevator arrived at his floor. “Smile!” he added. “We’re in love.”

“Great,” sighed Aaron, pasting an unconvincing smile on his face.

* * *

As soon as they got back to headquarters, a raucous cheer greeted them. Matt popped the cork out of a bottle of champagne.

“Mazel tov to the happy couple!” he shouted.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re hilarious,” muttered Aaron. “Give me some of that so I can forget this ever happened.”

“Aw, did your husband not treat you well?” chortled Nicky.

Aaron set his jaw and didn’t answer.

“Did you get the bugs placed?” Dan asked.

“Yes,” said Neil, giving a full-body shudder.

“What?” said Dan, noting his reaction. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” replied Neil. Dan was not impressed, her expression demanding. “I almost got caught. It’s okay, it worked out.”

“How did it work out?” asked Allison, sounding completely delighted.

“Give me the alcohol,” said Aaron sharply.

“Come on, tell us!” cajoled Erik.

“I hate all of you,” said Aaron.

“It’s all in good fun,” said Renee.

“Yes,” said Neil dryly. “Hopefully one day we’ll find it just as funny as the rest of you already do.”

“Tell us! Tell us what you’re hiding!” said Katelyn.

Aaron sighed heavily. “He dragged me into a closet and got on his knees. Then I had to make fake sex noises until one of his coworkers caught us. It was the worst moment of my life. I would appreciate the oblivion of alcohol now.”

Everybody laughed heartily and looked to Andrew for his reaction.

He shook his head at Neil. “I don’t answer your call once and you elope with my brother?”

“Serves you right,” replied Neil.

Andrew stepped closer to him, lips twitching.

Neil glared at him. “Not you, too.”

“I always wanted the two of you to get along better, but this is not what I meant.”

“You’re going to regret making jokes when I leave you for him.”

“You’re not going to do that,” said Andrew seriously, although his hazel eyes were still amused.

“You know how petty I can be.”

“You won’t,” reiterated Andrew with confidence. “You only swing for me.” He pulled Neil into a kiss and he immediately melted. He didn’t know how Andrew could affect him like this, after seven years of marriage and over a decade together.

Still. He wasn’t going to let this go that easily. “Mmm,” he moaned. “Aaron.”

Andrew pinched his waist in retaliation.

Nearby, Aaron whimpered unhappily into his champagne.


	9. Mr. and Mr. Doe

Andrew had decided that he was not overly fond of Bogota. It had been raining since he got there, meaning he was always at least a little damp; it had been cold as well, which made no sense since he was in _South_ America. Shouldn’t it be warmer than where he was from? Other downsides of Bogota included: the fact that the people in the hotel room next to him had spent all night having loud, obnoxious sex (not that Andrew was sleeping, but still. Loud heterosexual intercourse. Ew), his taxi driver had gotten lost, twice, on the trip from the airport, and his assassination target had already been dead when he got there, meaning he wasn’t even going to get paid for this horrible trip.

And now he was being told that he couldn’t leave.

“What do you mean I have to stay here?” he hissed into his burner phone.

“I’m not sure how I can make it clearer for you,” drawled Aaron. “If I were there, I could draw you a crayon picture, I suppose.”

“Fuck off and explain yourself.”

“…Which one? I can’t do both.”

Andrew growled.

“Fine, fine. The authorities are searching for tourists travelling alone. They’re looking for whoever murdered Andritch.”

“Well, it wasn’t me.”

“But you don’t want to be searched, do you?”

Andrew had to admit that Aaron was right, although he wasn’t sure that staying still was a better option. Really, he just wanted to go home.

He surveyed the hotel lobby from where he was half-hidden behind a ficus, looking for better options. He caught sight of something at the bar and got an idea.

“I’m not staying here,” he told Aaron. “If they’re looking for tourists, they’re going to start searching hotels. I’m going to solve this in my usual way.”

“You can’t stab your way out of this one.”

“No, my _other_ usual way.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well you said they were looking for people who are _alone_ , didn’t you?”

“Oh, no way Andrew. You’re not fucking your way out of this. What’s your plan, picking up some random civilian?”

“Basically. I’ve got one in my sights right now.”

“You don’t even know if he’s gay.”

“It won’t take me long to find out,” said Andrew.

“This is a terrible idea.”

“Why? It’s not like I’m going to fall in love with him,” scoffed Andrew, rolling his eyes for good measure. “I’ll be back soon.” He hung up his phone and removed the SIM card. The phone he dropped into the plant pot, the SIM card he broke into pieces and scattered them along his path to the bar.

He approached the man he had spotted, sidling up into his personal space. He made sure not to touch him, but he spread one arm along the back of his stool and stepped close. He signalled to the bartender for a drink.

The man was attractive, although given the opportunity Andrew thought he could improve him. His hair would look better several shades lighter and his ass would look better in pants that were several sizes tighter. His blue eyes and his sharp cheekbones were perfect as they were.

“Hello?” said the man, sounding unsure.

“Is there a mirror in your pants?” asked Andrew. Subtlety wouldn’t help him here; he had to know as soon as possible if this man was seduceable.

“No?” said the man.

“Because I can see myself in them.”

The man choked on his drink. “God, that was horrible.”

“Horrible unwanted or horrible bad or…?”

“Just horrible. Has that ever worked for you?”

“Sure,” said Andrew with a shrug. He raked his eyes over the man’s form. “Don’t let my height fool you; I’m not small everywhere.”

“You’re very forward, aren’t you?”

Andrew paused. “…I’m sure there’s an innuendo there about being backwards if you prefer, but I’m just not finding it.”

“Aw,” said the man. “Are you having trouble performing?”

“It’s never happened before.”

“Suuuuure it hasn’t.”

“Give me another chance?”

“Shoot. Give me your best.”

“Are you a Nintendo cartridge? Because I am going to blow you.” Andrew was enjoying himself far too much.

The man barked a laugh, sounding almost surprised by his own mirth. “That’s your _best_? Jesus, have you _ever_ been laid?”

“I could prove it, if you let me.”

The man shook his head in amusement. Before he could respond, a commotion at the front desk distracted him. The local police had come into the hotel and were loudly demanding that the receptionist disclose all the names of foreign visitors that were alone. Andrew had been correct; he couldn’t stay still.

“What’s going on?” The man’s brow was furrowed in concern.

“They’re looking for people travelling alone,” said the bartender, bringing over Andrew’s whisky.

“Huh,” said the man. He turned back to Andrew. “So…” he pointed at Andrew, prompting him.

“Andrew,” he supplied.

“Andrew,” the man repeated, nodding. “I’m Neil.”

“Neil,” said Andrew. “I'm in the mood to do something stupid.”

“Well, whatta you know?” said Neil, draining his drink and grinning at Andrew. “It’s your lucky day. I’m very stupid.”


	10. Prince and the Pauper AU

It was completely unfair, in Andrew’s opinion, that princes in stories always got to go on adventures. Those princes were brave and stalwart and true and never had to do anything they didn’t want to. Unlike Andrew, who had never been allowed to leave the castle and who was made to obey his mother’s every whim. Not by force, no, but by the most powerful incentive of all: _disappointment_. Because if Andrew did or said something that his mother didn’t like, she’d look at him with sad eyes and he was immediately contrite.

Queen Cassandra was not his real mother; she had taken him in when he was barely old enough to open his eyes, a red, squalling, wrinkled thing. She’d always told him that she took him in out of the goodness of her heart because she was kind and benevolent, but Andrew had once overheard the washerwomen gossiping about the true story when he’d been hidden behind a set of draperies. He was often hidden while in the castle, preferring to spend time by himself in fantasy worlds than playing with his older brother.

The story went like this: King Richard had a wandering eye (which Andrew did not understand; in the portraits of Cass’ late husband his eyes looked normal) and it often found itself wandering to the palace staff, particularly when the palace staff was young and beautiful. Shortly after the King’s untimely death when he was thrown from a horse, one of the young, beautiful chambermaids had found herself in some trouble. She’d brought her newborn babe to petition the Queen for support. The Queen had banished the woman for her insolence, but had taken the baby to raise as her own. She was desperate for a spare Prince, should anything happen to her own son, as she’d only borne stillborn children after his miraculous birth. Her late husband’s bastard child was better than nothing.

Her foresight proved fortuitous, as when Andrew was eleven years old, Prince Drake took a fatal, drunken tumble off one of the castle’s balconies.

Nobody ever questioned why he was so far from his own rooms, up near the playrooms reserved for the castle’s children, at least not out loud. Nobody mourned him very much, either. The only exception was Cass, who grieved for him keenly and whose lips would press together into a thin line if anyone spoke ill of him. For this reason, Prince Drake was almost never spoken of again.

Andrew became heir and he found that being the crown Prince came with more tedious responsibilities and fewer exciting adventures than stories had led him to believe. Especially now that, in his mother’s opinion, he was old enough to wed.

Andrew did not want to get married. He had no interest in the frilly, frivolous Princesses that were sent to visit him from neighbouring kingdoms in an attempt to ensnare his affections. There were two secrets that Andrew kept close, that he would never reveal even upon pain of death. The first was exactly where he had been when Drake had fallen (as if anyone knew _that_ he would be executed for treason and regicide), and the second was that there was no girl on earth who could possibly catch his eye. No, his appreciative gazes were reserved for men, for the strong curves of their shoulders and the sharp lines of their jaws.

He had never acted on it. He’d been flirted with by many people of all genders, but the expression on his mother’s face when men approached him let him know that this wasn’t something she would allow. He could only imagine the depth of her disappointment if she ever found out about the way his thoughts turned.

It was always the same, when he disobeyed.

“Andrew,” she would say, her eyes pained, her tone soft and hurt. “You have hurt me greatly. After all I have done for you, taking you in and raising you and loving you like my own. If not for me, you would be starving in the streets. You own mother didn’t want you, no one wanted you, but I took you in and made you a Prince. After all my kindness, how could you repay me like this?”

And Andrew would hang his head in shame and apologize and beg her to love him again.

Despite knowing what would happen, Andrew still couldn’t make himself be attracted to any of the Princesses. Cass’ impatience was beginning to grow and he knew that his time was running out. He felt surrounded, for the first time in his life he found the castle stifling. He’d never left it but for official trips with his mother. Although he could see the surrounding town, he’d never been there. It suddenly seemed as if the walls were closing in around him; that he was caught in a slowly snapping trap. Soon, he knew, he would be married, no matter how much he didn’t want to be.

One day, following an announcement at breakfast where his mother had informed him that _yet another_ Princess was coming for a visit and this time she expected him to at least pretend to enjoy her company, he found himself rebelling. He dressed himself in his shabbiest clothes (which were still far nicer than most people’s clothes), stuffed a purse of gold coins into his belt, and sneaked out to have an adventure. If he was going to be forced into a life he didn’t want, he was going to have some fun first.

He made his way to the market square, completely overwhelmed. The smells and sounds were far more vibrant and noticeable than he was used to, and there were so many _people_. All around him, bumping into him, yelling at him, pushing past him. He tried to make himself as small as possible (which was not hard; Cass had always been dismayed by how he had failed to grow into a big, strong man like her _real_ son) to avoid everyone’s notice and conceal his panic.

He thought he had succeeded until the red-haired boy started talking to him.

“Oi, are you all right?” he asked.

Andrew gazed at him without really seeing him; his vision was starting to tunnel.

“Come on, then,” said the boy, gripping Andrew’s sleeve and pulling him along behind him. Andrew almost protested, almost lashed out, because he was the _Prince_ , he wasn’t supposed to be touched, but the boy’s touch was keeping him focused and stopping him from spiralling. He blindly followed in the boy’s wake, not paying attention to where they were going. When they stopped, he found himself on a rooftop.

He breathed in, his sharp fear snapping him out of his panic. He had never liked heights, especially since Drake’s death. He hadn’t expected to be up so high; he didn’t even remember climbing any stairs.

“That’s it,” said the boy. “Breathe in and out slowly; you’re okay now.”

He simply stood and breathed for a while before taking in his surroundings.

The first thing he looked at was the boy. He was probably about the same age as Andrew, though only a little taller. His hair was red and unkempt, his eyes were blue, his skin was brown like a nut, and his wide face was covered in freckles. He was dressed in clothes that were barely more than rags, and he had a salty-fishy odour that meant he spent a lot of time at the docks. He was probably the most beautiful boy Andrew had ever seen, so much more alive and real than the pampered noblemen’s sons that he knew.

“Better now?” he asked Andrew, white teeth flashing as he grinned. “I thought you were going to have a meltdown right there in the square!”

“I am fine,” said Andrew stiffly. Now that his panic was receding, he was very embarrassed.

“I mean, I wouldn’t blame you,” said the boy. “I’ve had more than my fair share of meltdowns.” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Neil.”

“Andrew.” He shook the offered hand. Neil’s hand was callused and rough, evidence of manual labour.

“You’re new around here, aren’t you?” said Neil. “I’ve never seen you before. Are you from up at the castle?”

“What makes you say that?”

Neil shrugged. “Well you’re not from around here, not dressed like that.” Andrew looked down at his clothes, noting how much finer they were than Neil’s. He wondered if their quality was the only thing that marked him out as an outsider, or if their style was wrong, too. As Andrew contemplated his sartorial choices, Neil continued chattering, “I assumed you were one of the Prince’s visitors, escaped from the dullness of his royal majesty’s presence,” he grinned.

Andrew was at first affronted by how this commoner was insulting him, but he was smart enough to know not to reveal his identity. “Something like that,” he said.

“Come on, we’d better get down from here before someone notices,” said Neil, leading Andrew back down to the street. Once they were there, he turned and smiled. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Andrew, but my old man’s going to have my hide if I don’t get back to him soon. Maybe we could see each other again sometime?”

Andrew wondered if Neil was flirting with him. He thought he might be and he could feel his whole face turning bright red at the realization. He’d been flirted with plenty, but those people had always wanted Prince Andrew, not him. But Neil didn’t know Prince Andrew; if he was flirting it was because he liked Andrew himself.

“I would like that,” Andrew managed to say despite his tongue feeling like it was too big for his mouth.

“I hang out in the evenings at the _Palmetto_ ,” said Neil. “Come find me, if you dare.”

“O… okay,” stuttered Andrew. “I will.”

Neil smiled at him again, and then was gone, somehow disappearing into the crowd between one blink and the next. Andrew put a hand on his head. It was just like a story. He’d met a beautiful boy who had saved him; of course, if he ever told this story to anyone then it would be _him_ saving _Neil_ , but that was neither here nor there. What was important was that it had happened.

It took him five minutes to realize that his purse full of gold was gone. All his joy drained out of him. Of course Neil hadn’t been interested in him, he’d been robbing him. And Andrew had just stood around like a sheltered fool and let him.

His eyes stung, but he was too proud to let any tears fall. Instead, he decided he’d had enough of an adventure and he blindly started heading back to the castle.

Trying to stay off the main thoroughfare, he travelled through less crowded alleys, getting angrier and angrier every step he took. In his anger he blundered into someone, knocking them both over.

He was about to start yelling at the moron who had been in his way until he got a look at the other boy’s face. It was like looking in the mirror: the same hazel eyes, the same blond hair, the same shaped nose, the same mouth, presumably the same stricken expression. Andrew really hoped that he did not look quite so stupid when surprised.

“You…” said the other boy, clearly grasping for words. “You look like me.”

“I do not,” said Andrew haughtily. “I am the crown Prince. If anything, _you_ look like _me_.”

The boy paled at Andrew’s words. “You’re lying,” he accused. “The crown Prince is a useless spoiled child that is completely under his mother’s thumb. Everybody knows that he never leaves the castle.”

Andrew puffed himself up. “How dare you say such things about me. I will have your head.”

The boy rolled his eyes. “Sure, you’re the crown Prince. And I’m a dragon.”

“I’ll prove it to you,” said Andrew, picking himself up. “Follow me.”

The boy trailed behind him, ridiculing him. Andrew wasn’t quite sure why he was following, except maybe because he expected to see Andrew make a fool of himself. As Andrew confidently retread his path back to the castle, the boy got more and more nervous. He tried to balk, but Andrew dragged him on.

“We shouldn’t be here,” he whispered as Andrew pulled him past the outer wall.

“You doubted me,” said Andrew. “Now, be quiet so no one hears us.”

Andrew had plenty practice moving through the castle so no one noticed him. It was a little more difficult with someone else, but he still managed to get all the way to his rooms without being stopped. The boy looked around with wide eyes.

“Believe me now?” asked Andrew.

“I believe you can _sneak into_ the castle,” said the boy. “That doesn’t prove you’re Prince Andrew.”

Andrew pulled a cord on the wall. “Hide,” he commanded.

The boy ducked behind the curtains as a servant bustled in. “What’ll it be, m’prince?” she asked.

“I would like a cup of hot cocoa.”

“As you say,” she replied, with a curtsy. She left quickly.

“Stay hidden until she leaves again,” Andrew instructed the curtains.

She returned with a tray, which also had several pastries on it, indicating that Andrew’s favourite cook had prepared this for him. He thanked the servant and told her that he didn’t want to be disturbed for the rest of the afternoon.

The boy came out from behind the curtains and stared at Andrew as if he was a new species. “You’re the Prince,” he said stupidly.

“As I said,” replied Andrew. “Who are you?”

“No one,” said the boy. “I mean, my name is Aaron Minyard and I work for the cobbler, but I’m no one. Why do we look the same?”

“I don’t know,” said Andrew honestly.

Aaron started curiously examining Andrew’s room as Andrew drank his cocoa and curiously examined Aaron.

“I can’t believe you live here,” said Aaron in wonder. “I would give _anything_ to live here.”

Which gave Andrew the best idea he’d ever had.

“Do you want to?”

“Do I want to what?”

“Live here,” said Andrew, annoyed that Aaron was being so slow. “For a couple days at least. I have to entertain Princess Katelyn of Vix for the next four days, and I don’t want to. You will do it for me.”

“In exchange for what?”

“In exchange for… because I am your Prince and I told you to.”

Aaron scoffed. “I know that you’re used to everyone just doing as you tell them, but out there in the real world it doesn’t work like that. I can’t take four days off from work!”

“I will do your work for you,” said Andrew, interested in learning more about how the peasants lived.

Aaron stared at him. “You can’t do my work! You don’t know how!”

“So explain it to me,” said Andrew. “There is nothing you can do that I cannot. Tell me everything I need to know and in return I’ll tell you everything you need to know, and we’ll switch places until the Princess is gone.”

Aaron was unable to answer, as he was clearly questioning Andrew’s sanity.

“Oh!” said Andrew, in realization. “And I can track down the liar Neil who stole from me and drag him back to the guards for punishment. I think I will suggest disfigurement. He won’t be able to charm anyone else if his face is no longer pretty.”

That didn’t appear to make Aaron feel better. “You can’t… you can’t do that! You’re supposed to be me! Do you know what happens to people who report to the guards? And how are you going to find this thief anyway?”

“He said that he frequented the _Palmetto_ , whatever that is.”

Aaron paled. “The Foxes hang out there,” he whispered. “No one with any sense goes there.”

“The Foxes?” said Andrew. “The criminals that steal from the crown? My mother has told me about them. Her guards have had no luck finding them. How do you know who they are?”

“I don’t know who they are; no one knows who they are,” said Aaron. “All everyone knows is that they steal from the rich and redistribute the gold, and to stay away from the _Palmetto_ if you don’t want trouble.”

“Excellent,” said Andrew, now getting very excited. “I will infiltrate them and learn their identities.” This was a worthwhile adventure. When he came back, his mother would be so happy and proud of him for discovering the criminals that she was sure to listen when he told her he didn’t want to marry. And Neil, who he was now sure must be one of these Foxes, would learn his lesson about crossing Andrew.

“I don’t know,” said Aaron dubiously. “I’ve heard that what they do makes the lives of the poor easier.”

“No, my mother explained this to me,” said Andrew. “They are making up lies to convince the uneducated that what they are doing is good. _The crown_ looks after the poor. These thieves need to be caught and executed.”

“You’ll never get in the door,” said Aaron. “They have a sixth sense for sniffing out rich men.”

“Sniffing is one of the five senses,” Andrew pointed out. “And I won’t be a rich man. I’ll be you.”

Aaron groaned.

“Relax,” said Andrew, really looking forward to the next few days. “What’s the worst that can happen?”


	11. H2O: Just Add Water

Andrew lit a cigarette and told himself to concentrate. It was difficult, with his medication, to focus on anything. He’d start along one path and then a tangent would appear and then something else would catch his attention and then it was three hours later and he was trying to come up with a clever pun to insult Kevin. But this was important. This was about Neil.

The skittish runaway may now be under Andrew’s protection, but there was still something he wasn’t telling Andrew. It itched in his brain like a secret, like a puzzle, like a mystery to solve. Except someone had dumped two partial puzzles into the same box and all the pieces were different colours and Andrew couldn’t find any edge pieces and the pieces he could find spoke German fluently and had cheekbones that could cut glass. Or something. That metaphor might have gotten away from him.

Concentrate. It was just beyond his grasp. He could see the moving parts and if he could somehow _connect_ them, he’d understand. He growled in frustration for about two seconds before he couldn’t sustain it and started laughing instead at his inability to get to the bottom of the mystery. If was sure that if he was sober, he’d be able to figure it out.

Something had pinged his brain at practice that morning. What was it, what was it…?

Right. Renee had said something about The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. Which had made him think about hitchhiking, which had made him think about Neil— specifically that time he’d picked open the bathroom door in Columbia and the shower had been on and the window had been open and Neil had been long gone.

His mind, of course, had taken that opening to think about Neil showering and wonder what Neil looked like naked, but he’d shut that down quickly and was left with: water. Neil was weird about water.

Firstly there was the thing with the showers. That was easily explained, especially after the way Neil had reacted when Andrew had said he’d read his file. Neil wasn’t the only Fox that preferred his own stall; Hell, Andrew preferred not to shower in public either, but unlike Neil he didn’t make a big deal about it.

But that wasn’t the only water thing that was odd. He drank strangely, too. Kevin kept harping on him about proper hydration and insisting that he didn’t drink enough water during practice. Neil wouldn’t spray water through his helmet grill like everyone else. He always removed his helmet and carefully drank without spilling a drop. Sometimes he’d tip his head back and Andrew could see the long line of his neck as he swallowed—

No. Focus. What was he thinking about?

Water. Right. Rain. Neil would go out when it was raining but he insisted on wrapping himself in multiple waterproof layers when he did. He was even worse than Reynolds. Andrew would suspect him of vanity, except for how little effort he clearly put into his appearance. What did it matter if he got wet? Being wet might actually _improve_ his too-big t-shirts and finger-combed hair.

Hmmm. Wet Neil.

Stop. Go back. There was something there, but Andrew couldn’t quite put his finger on it. It was just out of his reach.

The door to the suite swung open violently and Neil dashed inside, closing it behind him. He was flushed and sweaty, and Andrew’s mind helpfully supplied images of him being flushed and sweaty and without clothes.

Neil’s eyes darted around, hunted. He froze when he caught sight of Andrew sitting on the desk by the open window, his cigarette almost burned down to the filter.

“Uh,” he said.

He was saved from having to say anything more by Nicky throwing open the door to the suite. He was laughing loudly and carrying four water balloons. He was also soaking wet.

“The football team’s having a water balloon fight!” he cried. “Come on out!” He aimed one of the water balloons at Andrew, before thinking better of it and lobbing it at Neil instead. As it hit him and splashed apart, Nicky turned and ran, laughing giddily as he slammed the door behind him.

Andrew looked back to Neil and his thoughts screeched to a halt. Neil had collapsed and was flopping around on the floor.

Andrew tried to take in what he was seeing. He’d been wrong. Even if he’d been sober, he wasn’t close to guessing Neil’s secret. Either that, or his drugs had actually made him start hallucinating.

“What,” he said precisely, staring down at Neil— Neil who was completely naked except that his lower half was now a _mermaid tail_ — “The. Fuck.”


	12. No Law in Deadwood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspired by [this](https://requiemofkings.tumblr.com/post/183537451795/howdy-partner-care-to-wet-ur-whistle-giddy-up-to) artwork by the incredibly talented [@requiemofkings](https://tmblr.co/m8UG_2NN_rk3H3Exgp3Al2w)

“Fuckin’ finally,” said Kevin as they crested the hill and the ramshackle town came into view. “I’ve a hankering to get to town.”

“No surprises there,” replied Neil, adjusting his hat to keep the sun out of his eyes. “I’d a thought you were gonna shoot them poor sumbitches when the whiskey barrel went dry.”

“What in the hell are you insinuating? That I enjoy a fucking drink? I wasn’t aware that was outlawed.”

“Peace, Kevin, fuck. I’d forgotten what a miserable fucking bastard you are when you ain’t had a drink.” Neil shifted in his saddle and stroked his horse’s neck to soothe her as she tossed her head and stomped in place, as impatient as Kevin was to get going. Riding was second nature to him— he never felt more at home than running his horse at a gallop, leaning forward over her neck with her sides heaving as she let loose— but even he was ready for a rest. Days upon days of staying with the impossibly slow wagon train and listening to Kevin’s complaints was enough to make even the most experienced traveller saddle sore.

Neil spurred his horse down the ridge, passing into the town. It was haphazardly put up and quickly growing: tents were surrounded by partially-built structures. The clang of hammers and the buzz of saws filled the air and the smell of sawdust was pervasive, though it couldn’t cover up the scent of horseshit. The main thoroughfare was made up of sucking mud, made worse by the rain of the last three days.

The biggest building had a painted sign that identified it as the Grand Hotel and had an attached stable. Kevin dismounted and tossed his reigns over to the tall, grinning man that came to greet them.

The man did a double take when he saw Kevin and then goggled at him. “Kevin ‘Bullseye’ Day!” he said when he regained the power of speech. “The most accurate shot in the west!”

“Probably in the east, too,” said Neil affably, dismounting his own horse.

“And you must be his sidekick, Quickdraw Josten!”

Neil felt the familiar urge to run that occurred every time someone recognized him. By all rights he should have shed the name Josten long before, it was far too recognized these days thanks to Kevin’s need to be the centre of attention. “God fucking dammit, I ain’t that son of a bitch’s sidekick,” he griped as Kevin snorted a laugh.

“Don’t say nothin’ against my mother, Josten.”

“I’d never disrespect a woman who can outdraw me.”

The stable hand watched their banter with barely repressed glee. “My old lady might give you a run for your money,” he said. He nodded back at the hotel. “We’re the proprietors of this fine establishment. Matt Boyd, at your service.”

“We’d like a room,” said Kevin.

“Two, if you can manage,” added Neil. “We’re mighty worn out lookin’ at each other.”

“For y’all, I can manage,” said Matt.

“There a blacksmith in town?” asked Neil, giving his horse a final pat. “I want to get my horse reshod before we head out again.”

“Minyard has a smithy; I can point you the way.”

“Leave off ‘til tomorrow, Neil,” said Kevin. “Seeing as we’re gonna be here awhile.”

“What brings you to town?” asked Matt. “Prospecting? There’s gold in them hills.”

“This one got a warrant out for him in Cheyenne,” said Kevin, nodding to Neil. “Felt it safest to come to where there were no laws for him to break.”

“It true that there’s no law at all in Deadwood?” asked Neil.

Matt nodded quickly. “On account of it bein’ Indian land and all.” He looked at Kevin curiously. “I thought you were a marshal up in Montana?”

“Until he came to his fucking senses,” said Neil. “No more law man ambitions for him.”

Kevin rolled his eyes. “Tell me, is there anywhere in this goddamn shithole where a man can have a drink in peace? Maybe a game of faro?”

“Can have a drink, a game, and some pussy up at the Gem,” said Matt. “Miss Renee who owns it runs a tight ship.”

Neil raised an eyebrow. “A woman owns it?”

Matt nodded. “She used to be one of the whores workin’ there ‘til she got fed up with the way they were treated. Knifed the last owner and took over running the place.”

“Maybe somewhere less excitin’,” said Kevin. “I only need a drink and a game.”

Matt grinned. “You want the No. 10 saloon owned by Jeremy Knox.” He pointed helpfully.

Kevin tipped his hat and turned to leave. He’d taken several strides before he realized Neil wasn’t following. “You coming?”

“Kevin, you are my very best friend in the entire fucking world,” said Neil, “but if I have to spend another goddamn minute with you I’m liable to shoot you in your fucking face.”

“Don’t sugarcoat it none.”

“If I used fancy fucking words you’d mistake it for a compliment,” said Neil. “Get off. I’ll see you later.”

Kevin pouted, not liking being alone, especially in an unfamiliar place, but Neil couldn’t deal with his deep-seated personality flaws right then. His own issues took precedence; he couldn’t sit and watch Kevin drink and lose at cards, he had to survey the town, find all the escape routes and hiding places and get a look at the people in power.

Once he completed his initial circuit of the town, he headed to the Gem. Based on Matt’s description he guessed that the important players would be found there.

It was late afternoon and most of the local prospectors hadn’t returned from their claims, so the Gem was only sparsely populated. There were around ten patrons, five or six whores, and a bartender. Neil catalogued them all while trying to look like he wasn’t looking at any of them. He took a seat at the end of the bar and kept his head down.

“What’ll it be, honey?” asked the bartender, a slim man who likely had some Mexican in him.

“Water,” said Neil.

The bartender snorted in disdain, but poured him a glass of slightly suspect-looking water. “You new in town? You came to the right place. Name’s Nicky and I know everything.”

“Neil,” he replied. “I know nothin’.”

Nicky’s answering grin was almost predatory. “Want some pussy? All our girls are clean; checked by Doc Wymack and everything.”

“No.”

“You want somethin’ rougher? Wait until my break and I can take you out back.”

“Cocksucker,” growled a nearby man. Neil had characterized him as big and mean; he was gratified to see he was correct.

“You askin’?” said Nicky. “You don’t have the credit to afford me.”

“Fuck off,” said Big And Mean, turning red in rage. “You keep that cocksucking bullshit away from me.” He huffed and started to turn away. “Oughta be illegal.”

“Ain’t no law in Deadwood,” said a new voice. It belonged to the blond man at the far end of the bar.

“Ain’t your business, Minyard,” said Big And Mean.

This must be the blacksmith Matt had mentioned. He didn’t look like much, five foot even at most, but his suspenders helped display the fact that he had the arms of a man who pounded metal for a living. Neil could tell the man was feared, based on the nervous glances that skated over him and the way that everyone in the bar was suddenly minding their own affairs as soon as he started to speak.

“Just sayin’,” said Minyard, knocking the ash off his cigarette. “No law means he can suck cock if the fancy strikes him.”

“Andrew…” said Nicky, a fearful note in his tone.

Big And Mean puffed up and stalked toward Minyard. Neil reclassed him as big, mean, and _stupid_.

“No law means no one’ll object if I burn the faggot alive, either.”

“I may have to lodge a complaint.”

“And what’ll you do about it?” taunted Big And Mean And Stupid.

Minyard flicked his eyes over the man, looking bored. Then, quick as a rattlesnake he struck, extinguishing his cigarette on the man’s cheek. As he howled in pain, Minyard slashed out with a knife that he must have had hidden in one of his black armbands.

Big And Mean And Stupid fell to the floor, gurgling on the blood pouring out of his gasping throat. Neil watched him die dispassionately. The other patrons pretended not to notice the altercation; one of the whores ran from the room, presumably for her mistress.

“Andrew,” said Nicky, sounding censuring now.

Minyard flipped him a coin. “For the mess,” he said, tucking the knife back into his armband and turning back to his drink.

He had lit another cigarette by the time a tall, blonde, glamourous woman swept down the stairs from the upstairs office.

“Minyard, are you fucking murderin’ people in my place again, you goddamn cocksucker?” she demanded.

“It’s Renee’s place, Reynolds,” said Andrew.

“Same fucking difference. God, you’re an insufferable cunt,” Reynolds said.

Minyard nodded to the coin. “I paid for your trouble.”

Reynolds shook her head and rounded the bar, lifting her skirts to ensure the dead man’s blood wouldn’t stain them. Her eyes narrowed on Neil at the end of the bar. “What are you drinking?” she asked.

“Water.”

She raised a delicate eyebrow. “You want some pussy? Play some faro?”

Neil shook his head.

“Then buy some fucking alcohol or get the hell out of my bar,” she commanded. Turning to Nicky, she continued muttering, “Goddamn fuckers: killing people, not spending any money.” She gave Nicky a piercing glare. “Stop servin’ your bastard cousin if he kills anyone else, you hear me? In the meantime, go fetch the Chinaman and feed the idiot on the floor to his pigs.”

Nicky nodded and left. Neil motioned for a whiskey, not wanting to argue with Reynolds assuming it was an exercise in futility.

Reynolds slammed his glass down in front of him. “And take off your fucking hat. This is a goddamn classy establishment.”

Neil knocked the hat off the back of his head, letting the cord hang it around his neck. When he looked up, he found Minyard’s eyes on him.

“Here to prospect?” Minyard asked.

“No.”

Minyard waited but Neil didn’t expand, sipping his drink slowly and refraining from grimacing at the taste. The smoky flavour reminded him of grievous injuries, gritting his teeth and biting on leather as he was stitched back together.

“Who are you?” Minyard evidently had grown tired of waiting.

“I’m no one.”

“Why are you here?”

“No reason.”

Minyard shook his head. “You’re gonna be trouble, aren’t ya?”

“No, sir,” said Neil, trying to sound innocent. “I’ve never made trouble in my life.”

“I don’t trust you farther than I can throw this building,” said Minyard, draining the rest of his drink and standing. “But I sure do enjoy the way you lie.” He adjusted his hat on his head. “Got my eye on you, Quickdraw.” Which meant that either Minyard recognized him or that gossip travelled even faster than Neil had been anticipating.

Minyard nodded to Reynolds and strolled out the front door, seemingly without a care.

“Ain’t a good thing to have his attention,” said Reynolds, watching him go.

“Figures,” said Neil. “It’s the kinda fuckin’ luck I’ve got.”

He had a sneaking suspicion that his and Kevin’s idea of laying low in Deadwood to escape from their problems might not be quite as straightforward as they’d initially hoped.


	13. Carry On AU

Andrew can smell him coming before he can hear him. His sense of smell is excellent—which he regrets greatly since both Neil and Kevin are on the footie team meaning their dorm reeks of sweaty boy—but even so there’s something distinctive about Neil’s scent. It’s not even his blood that Andrew can smell (and despite the fact that he needs to consume it to live, blood doesn’t even smell that good to him—like raw meat and pennies) just _him_. Neil smells _alive_ in a way that most people don’t; alive and desperate to stay that way, despite (or maybe because of) the fact that he doesn’t think he’ll survive the year.

It’s not long before he can hear Neil, too. He’s shuffling his feet and clearing his throat, as if he’s trying not to startle Andrew into falling off the Ramparts. Andrew wants to scoff. As if Neil could sneak up on him. As if Andrew isn’t absurdly aware of his whereabouts at all times.

Neil comes to a stop several steps behind him; he’s close enough now that Andrew can hear the rush of blood through his veins, can practically feel his heartbeat. It’s both comforting and enticing, and Andrew wants, he _wants_ —

Nothing. He wants nothing. He can have nothing. He’s known that for his entire life; he learned that lesson long before Drake decided he wanted to make his latest plaything into an undead monster like him.

Neil shifts from foot to foot, indecisive. Andrew half-turns toward him, planning to tell him to spit out whatever it is he wants to say. It’s probably another accusation of some kind. He’s convinced that Andrew wants to kill him for some reason. Possibly because Andrew has made one or two attempts to do so.

(Not serious attempts. He mostly just tried to scare him into telling the truth. The Roommates’ Anathema prevents Andrew from actually hurting Neil—much to his past annoyance. He couldn’t believe his bad luck when the Crucible placed the mysterious newcomer into his and Kevin’s room.)

“Andrew—” says Neil, before cutting himself off. His expression shifts from incredulous to irritated. “Are you smoking? For God’s sake, you’re flammable!”

“Everyone’s flammable,” mutters Andrew rebelliously, although he knows very well that vampires are more flammable than most. When Drake bit him it unlocked his magical powers for the first time. He pushed Drake off of him, and wordlessly cast a _Tyger, tyger, burning bright_ (not that he’d known that’s what he was doing at the time). It had been like dry kindling going up in flames.

“Jesus Christ,” complains Neil, as he grasps the key that always hangs from his belt. It’s large and old and bronze, and it’s the only magical instrument that has ever worked in Neil’s hands.

Andrew gave it to him; it’s an old Hemmick family heirloom that Andrew had used until he’d found a magical silver knife in the catacombs when searching for rats to drain of blood. The key had never felt right in his own hands; his knife felt like it belonged there. When Neil had shown up at Watford without a family or a magical instrument of his own, there had been a long search where students offered him instruments they weren’t using, until he’d settled on Andrew’s key.

“ _Make a wish!_ ” casts Neil, instantly extinguishing the cigarette, and filling the air with the scent of his magic—wintergreen and ozone.

Andrew turns away from him and flicks the now-soggy cigarette over the Ramparts. “You swear like a Normal.”

Neil appears at his side and leans against the stonework. “I am a Normal.”

“Sure you are,” replies Andrew, raising an eyebrow. Because so many Normals can control magic.

Neil made a big splash in the World of Mages when he was found living in the Normal world, with no known Magical family. Almost as big as Andrew did, although it was quickly discovered that Andrew actually belonged to the Hemmick family (one of the oldest and most powerful Magical families) but that his mother, the family fuck up, had given him up for adoption in the Normal world. Andrew was incensed—or he would have been, if he hadn’t learned to control his emotions by then—when he learned about how protective the World of Mages was over magical children. If only his mother had told her brother she was pregnant instead of hiding out in the Normal world, he and his twin Aaron would have been given magical homes.

Of course, they probably would have lived with their Uncle Luther, which, given his cousin Nicky’s stories, would have sucked. But it still would have been better than Normal foster care.

“Neil Josten is a Normal,” corrects Neil, giving Andrew a side eyed look.

“And before you were Neil Josten?” asks Andrew. He usually skirts the topic, pretending that he has no idea that Neil is lying about his identity as long as Neil continues to pretend he has no idea that Andrew is a vampire.

Neil smiles at him and doesn’t answer. Andrew’s chest throbs. He wants to kiss Neil, which isn’t surprising or new. He spends most of his time wanting to kiss Neil, wanting to bury his face against his neck to feel his pulse and his warmth and the rush of his blood, wanting to prove to himself that Neil is still alive.

He also wants to push Neil off the Ramparts for making him feel these things.

“Too bad you weren’t ten minutes earlier,” he says instead. “There was a confused ghost trying for a visiting.” The Veil is thin and these visitings have been going on for weeks. Andrew isn’t expecting anything—he has no family he cares about and he doubts that his ancestors would pick _him_ to speak to in any case.

“Oh?” asks Neil lightly.

“A woman, looking for her son. Abram.”

Neil is practiced at lying so he controls his reaction tolerably well; Andrew doesn’t think that anyone who hadn’t spent as long as he has observing Neil would even notice the way he tenses.

“It’s an unusual name,” continues Andrew, feeling like he’s pressing on a bruise. “I don’t think there’s anyone at Watford with it.”

“Not that I’ve heard,” replies Neil, his voice almost natural. “What… what did the ghost say?”

“Mostly she just moaned for her son and told me to stay away from him—I have no idea who she thought I was.”

“Uh huh.”

“And then she said that danger approaches and Abram must leave Watford.” Andrew watches as his words fall like a blow, confirming his suspicions.

He gives in to his desires and reaches out to touch Neil, gripping him by the back of his neck. “Good thing your name is Neil,” he says roughly. “You’re not going anywhere.”


	14. Ladyhawke AU

 

Kevin waited until he couldn’t hear any movement in the trees before he stopped pretending to sleep. He had to sneak away while the blond brute—Andrew, he’d finally admitted he was called—wasn’t watching him. He was mildly grateful that Andrew had seen fit to break him out of jail, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what the short yet intimidatingly muscular mercenary wanted with him.

He quickly surveyed the makeshift campsite for the awful raven that Andrew seemed to keep as a pet—a huge bird, as big as a cat, with a vicious-looking beak and unsettlingly intelligent eyes—but the bird had flown off into the surrounding forest at the same time that Andrew had left to patrol at sundown. Not that Kevin could see if the raven had returned in the dark; it could be watching him from the darkness for all he knew. It had spent most of the day perched on the pommel of Andrew’s saddle, sleeping with its head under its wing; it was probably wide awake and hunting.

Kevin had spent the first part of his day trapped in jail and awaiting the public flogging he’d been sentenced to—a sentence he’d received for little more than being a known associate of Prince Riko. He’d had no idea how much animosity the peasant folk in the outlying areas had toward the royal family. Kevin had come to the town looking for refuge, cradling his shattered hand (a parting gift from the livid prince) against his chest, on his way to Palmetto. He’d only found anger and hostility.

The second part of his day had begun with Andrew showing up outside of his jail cell, keys in hand and no sign of the jailer with him. He was dressed all in black and had a massive raven perched on his shoulder. His face was impassive but he held the bearing of a trained guard and Kevin had thought for a wild moment that Riko had sent someone to rescue him. His theory was quickly disabused as Andrew bound him with rope, dragged him out of the jail, and lashed him to a horse, before mounting his own horse and hurrying them out of town. For the rest of the day, Andrew only said three sentences to him.

The first time Kevin managed to get a reaction out of him was when the raven briefly woke and idly circled Kevin a couple times before landing on his shoulder. Kevin tried to shy away from its talons.

“Sit still,” Andrew commanded.

Kevin swallowed nervously and obeyed. The raven peered at him curiously but made no move to peck out his eyes. “You stole this bird,” declared Kevin. All trained ravens belonged to the crown. Andrew didn’t reply. “Otherwise, how is it so well behaved?” pressed Kevin.

At that, Andrew snorted derisively but he still didn’t answer.

“You’re taking a stupid risk,” Kevin warned. “You’ll be flogged for stealing from the crown. The raven must be theirs.”

“No,” said Andrew quietly, “he isn’t. They only think he is.”

At that the raven quorked and took to the air. He circled above them for several minutes before coming to a rest in front of Andrew again. Andrew stroked its feathers almost reverently.

The only other thing that Kevin heard from him was when they stopped in a clearing for the night. Then he finally learned Andrew’s name and Andrew told him to get some sleep and stay in the campsite.

He didn’t know why Andrew took him or what he was planning on doing with him, but he wasn’t sticking around to find out.

He tiptoed out of camp, making it about three steps into the surrounding trees when he was halted in place by a low, menacing growl. All the hair on his body stood up straight and he narrowly avoided soiling himself as a large, blonde wolf stepped from the shadows into the light from the camp’s crackling campfire. Kevin’s blood ran cold and he took a cautious step back, wondering how long he had before the beast was on him. It was large for a wolf, its hulking shape standing higher than his hip and made of corded muscle.

“I’m pretty sure Andrew warned you to stay here,” said a low, amused voice from behind him.

Kevin whirled, keeping the wolf in his sights, to find a man he’d never seen before had appeared from nowhere and was now sitting on a log next to the fire, poking at it with a stick.

“Wha—Who—How—” he couldn’t gather his wits enough to form a full sentence.

“If you’re not going to sleep, then come sit,” offered the strange man. When Kevin didn’t move at first, he spoke again, more sharply, “Sit, Kevin.”

Kevin dumbly stumbled forward and sunk onto the ground beside the man. The wolf loped after him, brushing by Kevin’s side and making him shiver. The wolf lay at the man’s feet, nudging at the man’s hands.

“Yes, you’re very fearsome,” said the man as he scratched behind the wolf’s ears.

“Who are you?” Kevin managed to stutter.

“I’m Neil,” said the man, his attention still on the wolf, “Andrew’s travelling companion.”

“I didn’t see you before,” protested Kevin, watching with wide eyes as the wolf settled with a huff, eyes falling closed in pleasure at Neil’s ministrations.

“I’m good at camouflaging myself,” said Neil, sounding amused again. “I saw you, though.”

“That’s less comforting than you think.”

“Maybe I wasn’t trying to be comforting.”

Kevin grimaced. “Is that wolf yours?” he asked, still watching it warily.

“He’s his own,” said Neil.

“But he obeys you?”

“Only if I ask nicely,” answered Neil enigmatically. “He won’t let any harm come to me—or you, as long as you cooperate.”

“Cooperate with what?” demanded Kevin, more than ready for some answers.

“You are Lord Kevin Day, formerly the head of Prince Riko’s personal guard, are you not?” asked Neil.

Kevin didn’t reply; his former title hadn’t granted him any favours recently.

Neil didn’t seem to need his confirmation. “You know the layout of Castle Evermore like the back of your hand. You know the way in, guard shifts, secret passages…”

“So what?” asked Kevin suspiciously, already seeing where this was going. Riko might have turned on him but he wasn’t about to betray the rest of the royal family.

“So we need to get in.”

“Why?”

Neil only smiled at him, a sharp, cruel smile that sparked recognition in Kevin’s hindbrain. He’d seen that exact smile before, on an older face that had always terrified him.

“Butcher,” he breathed out.

The wolf was on its feet immediately with a warning growl. Neil tensed before forcibly relaxing. “No,” he said, putting a calming hand on the wolf’s flank.

“But you are, aren’t you?” insisted Kevin. “The son of Lord Nathan Wesninski, the King’s Butcher?”

Neil paused, watching his fingers twine in the wolf’s coat. “I was,” he admitted reluctantly.

“But everyone knows you’re dead!” exclaimed Kevin.

Neil punched him in the shoulder.

“Ow,” muttered Kevin, rubbing it sullenly.

“Does it feel like I’m dead?” asked Neil. “No, I’m very much alive, but go ahead and tell me what ‘everybody knows’.”

“You were betrothed to Prince Riko,” started Kevin when it became clear that Neil was serious in his request, “but one of your guards fell in love with you. When you made it clear that you loved only Riko, he…didn’t take no for an answer.” The wolf, who had settled down after his aggression, started growling again. Neil shushed it and stroked its head. “He, uh,” Kevin cleared his throat awkwardly, “he killed you and then himself so that Riko could never have you.”

“And this is what everyone knows?” said Neil dryly. “Riko has more imagination than I suspected. It is true that my guard fell in love with me—but I fell in love with him right back.” The wolf hmphed contentedly and laid its giant head across Neil’s lap. “And I never felt anything but contempt for Riko; who could?”

Kevin felt almost compelled to argue, before he stretched out his wounded hand and kept silent. “So you ran away? You and your guard? Where is he?”

Neil gave him a look that made him feel two inches tall. “You remember Andrew, right? Blond guy, broke you out of jail today?”

“Oh,” said Kevin stupidly. He couldn’t imagine Andrew as the dashing hero that had caused Nathan Wesninski’s only son to run away in a fit of love.

Neil rolled his eyes. “And we didn’t quite get away unscathed. Riko had his revenge.”

“He does that,” said Kevin in a strangled voice.

“What do you know about curses?” asked Neil.

Kevin started at the seeming non-sequitur. “Not much.”

“Did you know that the easiest way to break a curse is to kill the caster?”

“I—” Kevin cut himself off, realization hitting him. “ _That’s_ why you want to break into Castle Evermore. That’s why you need me; I know how to get to Riko’s chambers. He put you under some kind of curse? Is that why I couldn’t see you before?”

“Yes.”

“I won’t do it,” declared Kevin. “I won’t go back there, ever. For any reason.”

Neil hummed thoughtfully. “Where were you going?” he asked.

“What?”

“When you were sneaking out of camp, where were you going? Or were you just going to wander aimlessly?”

“I…I was going to Palmetto,” admitted Kevin. “Lord Wymack will give me sanctuary.”

“Alright then,” said Neil, leaning forward. His eyes glittered in the light from the fire. “We have a deal for you. Get us into Castle Evermore and we’ll protect you. No one will hurt you ever again. And once we’re finished, we’ll deliver you safely to Palmetto.”

“…What if I say no?” asked Kevin.

The wolf lifted its head and gave Kevin what appeared to be a grin, showing all its pointy teeth.

“Wouldn’t you rather be on our side?” asked Neil lightly.

“Are you sure Andrew will agree? Where is he, anyway?”

Neil grinned and looked down at the wolf. “He’s around. He’s protecting the camp. And he’ll protect you, if you agree to our deal.”

“And the wolf? He won’t hurt me?”

“You’re safe from the wolf and the raven as well.” There was something in his voice that Kevin couldn’t identify. “As long as you help us.”

“Help you kill the prince,” Kevin pointed out.

“Do you have a problem with that?”

He would have, up until very recently. But Riko had become increasingly erratic ever since his betrothed had been killed (or run away, apparently) and was becoming a danger to all around him. Kevin’s own injury had occurred as he’d tried to curb the prince from murdering innocents. In his heart of hearts, Kevin knew he had to be stopped. He shook his head once. “I’ll help you,” he whispered.

“Good,” said Neil, looking pleased. “You should get some rest; I’ll keep watch.” His words seemed to be more aimed at the wolf than at Kevin, but that was absurd. Kevin was probably just imagining things after his hectic day.

“Okay,” he said, standing and brushing himself off. “Goodnight,” he said around a yawn.

“Sleep,” said Neil. “We have a long road ahead of us.”


	15. Ladyhawke AU part 2

 

The fight was chaos. It took almost all of Andrew’s considerable concentration to keep an eye on Kevin while cutting his way through Riko’s guards. Neil flitted into Andrew’s peripheral vision from time to time, taking full advantage of his raven form by dive bombing the unsuspecting men and pecking and clawing at their eyes.

This was not what Andrew had planned. It was supposed to be a stealth mission, in and out like a scythe, leaving only Riko’s bloody, dead body behind. He should have known that it wouldn’t be that simple. Neil was involved, after all.

It had been a long couple months, travelling across the Kingdom to get to the capital of Evermore. They’d had to keep off the beaten path to avoid being seen and recognized. Kevin, pampered by his life of luxury, had not coped well.

He’d whined and complained and waffled over whether or not he want to be complicit in the murder of the prince. Andrew had seriously considered killing him and being done with it. Only his promise and the potential to end his curse had stayed Andrew’s hand.

It was a cruel twist of the curse that Andrew was the one who was human by day. He envied Neil’s ability to simply fly away when Kevin became too annoying.

As they neared the capital, Kevin grew more and more sullen as the effects of Riko’s instability and mismanagement became more and more clear. Rumours of beatings and murders and thefts by the crown were common. Once they passed through a small village that had been razed to the ground for insulting the prince, Kevin became absolutely resolute. Staring at the bodies of men, women, and children that were strewn through the formerly picturesque village, Kevin had at last conceded that Riko must die.

He was easier to deal with after that, but he was still Kevin: arrogant but still fearful of the wrath of the royal family. He’d taken to training Neil in swordplay in the early evenings after Neil’s transformation, much to Andrew’s satisfaction. He’d always wanted to teach Neil to defend himself but after their curse he had no way to do so.

When they were a day outside of Evermore, Andrew had sat Kevin down and gone over their plan. It wasn’t foolproof and it carried quite a lot of risk, but it was the best they could come up with considering their resources. Therefore, it had been incredibly surprising to find that they had more resources than any of them had known.

They found them a couple miles from the town gates. They were entering during the day because trying to sneak Andrew in wolf form into the city was impossible. Instead, Neil was going to fly over the stone walls and meet them inside, hopefully not getting shot down or captured by any of the city guards. Again, Andrew hadn’t been particularly happy about it but he couldn’t risk being seen with a raven; especially here, where all ravens were thought to be the property of the crown.

Neil had been the first to alert Andrew to their reinforcements. He’d been flying high, surveying their path to Evermore, before giving a shrill cry and swooping low to circle Andrew in increasingly erratic circles. He’d led Andrew and Kevin deeper into the trees surrounding their path, until they camp upon a busy, makeshift camp filled with familiar people.

“Finally,” sighed the sentry, Matt Boyd, as Andrew came into camp. “We hurried to get here, but we worried we missed you. How dare you stage an assault on the castle without waiting for us!”

Andrew hadn’t answered, instead looking around in amazement at the people getting ready for battle. He and Neil had taken shelter in Palmetto after they’d been cursed. They were circumspect and tried to keep to themselves—turning spontaneously into an animal was a good way to encourage a mob to burn you at the stake. Neil, of course, had been noticed by the townspeople and had even made friends. Andrew wasn’t particularly surprised. Neil was the type who inspired loyalty easily.

However, it wasn’t only Neil’s friends that had come to help them kill the prince. Andrew glimpsed his own twin brother and his cousin, along with Renee, the woman who had taught him everything he knew about how to properly wield a blade. They all caught his eye and nodded in solidarity.

After that, a plan was made. Kevin and Andrew would still sneak into Riko’s rooms, but they had a distraction now. The others would take care of that.

Still, Riko, the coward, had a fair number of guards in his private rooms that stood between Andrew and his goal. He stabbed and parried and deflected his way through them on the way to Riko.

He was almost there when he heard a cut off raven’s shriek. He froze as he looked up and caught sight of Riko holding Neil in a death grip. Riko had scratches down his face, bleeding profusely. He grinned sadistically at Andrew, his teeth red with blood.

“Take another step and the bird gets it,” he threatened.

“Let him go,” snarled Andrew, relaxing his stance. The guards backed off to witness the tableau in the middle of the room.

“Not until you drop your sword and surrender,” sneered Riko. “If you do that, I’ll let you both survive with your lives... although Nathaniel might wish he was dead as he spends his nights entertaining me.”

Andrew couldn’t help the growl that escaped him, as close as he could get to his wolf’s while in human form. He took a step forward.

“Ah, ah, ah,” chided Riko, holding Neil tighter. “Get a hold of yourself, dog.”

“Fine,” Andrew grit out, taking another step forward as he moved to lay out his sword at Riko’s feet. At the very last second he sprung, swinging his sword to slice through Riko’s arm like butter. Neil fell to the ground with a thump, still held in Riko’s severed hand.

Riko screamed and stumbled back, scrabbling against the floor as Andrew advanced on him. The guards started forward, but we cut off with a yell from the outer chamber: their backup spilled into the room and started fighting.

“Get him, Andrew!” shouted his cousin, Nicky.

Riko was crying and begging, interspersed with threats about how Andrew was going to pay for his actions. Andrew ignored him, easily sliding his bloody sword into Riko’s heart.

As soon as he did so, he was hit with an invisible force and was thrown back against the wall. His bones felt like they were on fire, like they were snapping and adjusting as he changed shape. But changing shape had never been this painful.

The agony left abruptly, leaving him panting on the floor. It took him several moments to gather his wits; when he did, he looked up to see Neil lying naked in a pool of sunlight on the grimy, bloody floor, staring at his hands in wonder.

He grabbed for the closest covering he could see—the curtain from the window behind him—and rushed to Neil’s side, wrapping him up before anyone looked too closely. His eyes watered since he didn’t dare blink; it had been so long since he’d seen Neil with his human eyes that he didn’t want to miss a single second. He ran one hand along Neil’s neck, revelling in the feeling of warm skin against his own, and tangled his other hand into Neil’s hair. He’d forgotten how red it was in the sunlight—he had been unable to see red as a wolf and Neil was only ever human at night.

Neil, for his part, was looking up at Andrew with awe, tracing his fingers lightly along his jaw.

“I forgot how short you are,” he said in choked voice. “You always look so big when I’m a bird.”

 _Fuck_ , thought Andrew, _he’s such an asshole_. After forced to be apart for so long, _that_  was the first thing Neil said to him? He loved him _so much_.

The fighting around them had calmed—Andrew spared a glance up to make sure that his allies had won—as he leaned down to kiss Neil desperately. He broke it off before anything more could happen, standing and hoisting Neil into his arms.

Neil whined in complaint, but Andrew shushed him. He had plans. They had to get a private room and Neil had to be thoroughly washed and then their bodies had to get intimately reacquainted. They could wait until they were alone. They had all the time in the world now.

**Author's Note:**

> I can be found on tumblr [@gluupor](http://gluupor.tumblr.com). Feel free to send me an ask if you have a prompt, but beware that I'll probably ignore it for many months and then write something completely different from what you want.


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